Round 22 Transcript

The ground beneath Seraphine's feet gives a sickening lurch, and she stumbles, her eyes darting wildly about the corridor as her balance is thrown off. The tapestry she had sought to use for leverage suddenly tears from the wall, its fibers snapping like brittle twigs. The chest behind her creaks open, its contents spilling out in a chaotic jumble - old scrolls, dusty relics, and a handful of scattered gemstones. As she struggles to regain her footing, a bone-chilling screech echoes through the corridor once more, growing louder still. The air seems to vibrate with malevolent energy, making Seraphine's skin crawl in revulsion. Her gaze snaps to the runes on the wall, their glow intensifying as if responding to her panic. The magical ward within the tower is reacting to her presence, its power surging in a wild, unpredictable manner.

I can feel it—the way this tower breathes darkness, each pulse of the runes thrumming through my very being like a second heart beating out of sync with mine. The magic here is ancient, corrupt, and it’s seeping into me with every breath I take. We need to move slowly, carefully, I call out, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fear that’s coiling around my spine. The runes on these walls—they’re not just decorations. They’re a spell in themselves, and it’s still active. My eyes follow Halie as she works to maintain her barrier—she looks exhausted already, and we’ve barely stepped inside. If we trigger the wrong thing… I don’t finish the thought. We all know what happens if that occurs.

I raise a hand, trying to focus on the magical energies swirling around us. I can sense them, thin threads of power weaving between the runes, but they’re tangled and chaotic, like a nest of snakes ready to strike at any moment. Varikka’s bravery is admirable—always has been—but right now, it feels more like recklessness. I open my mouth to call out to her, to tell her to wait, but she’s already moved forward, her mace raised and ready for whatever lies ahead.

The sound of something scraping echoes through the corridor—the skeletons Halie mentioned earlier? Or something worse? My fingers twitch with the urge to cast a spell, to do something useful, but I hold back. Against undead, physical weapons are often more effective than magic. And if I let my control slip here…

I glance at Merrin—her face is pale beneath her bandages, but her eyes are sharp and alert. She’s our scout, our early warning system in this darkness. We need to stick together, I say, moving closer to Halie, trying to offer what support I can. If we get split up, whatever’s down here will pick us off one by one.

The air grows thicker with each passing moment, heavy and oppressive. I can feel something else now—not just the magic of the runes, but a presence. Something ancient and malevolent is watching us. We need to find a way out—quickly. But as soon as the thought crosses my mind, the ground beneath our feet begins to shift.

The runes on the wall pulse again, brighter this time, and I can hear something moving in the corridor ahead—the sound of bones scraping against stone. They’re coming for us.

The barrier flickers back into existence with a painful jolt, like trying to breathe after being punched in the chest. I gasp for air, sweat beading on my forehead as I maintain the spell. "Damn you and your recklessness!" I shout through gritted teeth, not at Varikka but at whoever designed these wards to fail so catastrophically. The magic crackles around me, fighting against the unholy aura that seems to seep from every crack in this cursed tower.

The ground lurches beneath my feet once again, throwing me off balance. I stumble, my hands scrabbling against the rough stone floor for purchase as the world around us spins in a dizzying tilt. The magical barrier Halie has worked so hard to maintain flickers, its energy sputtering like a dying flame before it snaps back into place with a painful jolt through my entire body.
My gaze darts frantically around the room, taking in the chaos: the torn tapestry flapping uselessly against the wall, the spilled contents of the chest cluttering the floor. And then I see them—the runes on the walls. They’re not just glowing now; they’re pulsing with an angry red light, their ancient patterns twisting into new, more sinister shapes before my eyes.
"Those runes," I gasp out, my voice strained with both exertion and dawning horror. "They’re reacting to our presence. To me."
I can feel the power of this place, old and malevolent, pressing in on all sides like a physical weight. It’s not just the skeletons or whatever horrors lie deeper within the tower—it’s the magic itself. And it wants us gone.
The scream echoes through the corridor once more, louder now, filled with a chilling rage that seems to vibrate deep in my bones. It sounds like it wants us alive. The thought makes my skin crawl with revulsion.
I turn to Halie, who looks utterly exhausted from maintaining her spell, and then to Jeane, who is frantically studying the runes on the wall. Merrin and Varikka are already moving further into the tower, their forms indistinct in the darkness ahead.
"We can’t keep going like this," I shout over the chaos, my voice rising in pitch as panic sets in. "The magic is too strong, too unstable. We need to find a way to stop whatever spell is causing this before it expels us or worse."
My mind races, trying to recall every scrap of lore I know about ancient magical wards and their fail-safes. There has to be a counter-spell, some way to neutralize this power before it gets the better of us.
I take a step towards the runes, my hand outstretched, but Halie’s sharp cry stops me in my tracks. "Seraphine, no! Don’t touch anything!"
She’s right. Who knows what kind of trap might be waiting for us if we interfere with something so old and unpredictable.
The ground shifts again, more violently this time. I feel my feet sliding forward, the magical barrier offering no purchase against the sudden tilt. We’re being pushed deeper into the tower, away from the safety of the entrance.
"I have to see them up close," I insist, my voice a desperate plea. "If I can understand what’s happening, maybe I can figure out how to stop it."
But even as I say it, doubt gnaws at me. This isn’t just a magical trap; it’s a living thing, an ancient intelligence set on protecting whatever lies at the heart of this accursed place. And right now, it seems intent on ejecting us like so much refuse.*

I can feel the ground shift beneath my feet once again, the ancient magic of this place reacting violently to our presence. The runes on the walls pulse with an ominous glow, their power radiating like a physical force. I grip my mace tighter, the rough wood of its handle familiar and comforting in my hand.

But there's no time to hesitate. We've come too far to turn back now. I turn to Merrin, her eyes wide with fear behind her makeshift bandage. "Merrin, stay sharp," I growl, my voice low and urgent. "We need your eyes to watch for traps."

My gaze sweeps over the rest of the party - Halie, straining to maintain her barrier spell, Jeane focused on the runes, Seraphine frantically searching for stability. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. "Everyone, stay close together," I command, my voice ringing out clear and strong above the chaos. "We can't afford to get separated in this place."

With a final glance back at the party, I step through the gate, my mace raised high and ready to strike. Whatever lies beyond this threshold, we'll face it together.